Don't Look at Me as a Tragedy
by Rago Dragovian
Summary: "Don't pity me and don't idealize me. I'm more than just a tragedy." Kaori wrote more than just a single letter. She sent another letter with her full thoughts and feelings to another of her close friends.


_Disclaimer: Your Lie in April isn't mine._

* * *

 _I only ask one thing, Dear Friend._

 _Don't pity me. If you are pitying me, then STOP pitying me._

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 _The first moment that I realized I had little time left . . . I felt rage overwhelm me. A deep hate for my newfound impotence at being unable to change my fate._

 _I wondered how life could be so cruel as to rob me of my future so suddenly. I felt so completely helpless and I pondered all of the things that I would never be able to do. I would never become a world renown violinist, I would never get married or have children, I would never experience sex, I would never be able to stand shoulder to shoulder with the classmate I secretly admired, and I would never experience college life._

 _In one moment, my future felt irrevocably short, narrow, and worthless. Even if your spontaneously motivated to do your best, most of what you can do is limited by the starting point that you're currently living in. If someone like the great Arima Kousei would continue to follow his passions and go on to become a world renown pianist as I absolutely believed that he would be, then why would he recall or care about some girl who tragically died of a terminal illness? That's how everyone will remember me, right? Some girl who died of terminal illness. That's what will be the defining moment of my life and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. Am I even worth remembering if all I'll be doing is causing others pain? I felt like I was a curse placed upon people. Ugly, insidious, and ready to rip their hearts out because I carry this awfulness within me. For a moment, I hated myself, I hated my body, I hated who I was, and I felt nothing more than a deep loathing and disgust for being Miyazono Kaori._

 _It was followed by a profound sadness and regret. What did I regret? I regretted not embarrassing myself. I regretted not being able to break out of my shell and just talk to the boy I fancied. I regretted all the fears of being laughed at or being seen as stupid when trying to talk to new people. I regretted not taking chances to be ridiculed, mocked, and shamed for trying to break out of my shell because, after all, that's what living life is about. I regretted not doing stupid things like riding behind someone on a bike or sneaking into a mature film or smoking and drinking drugs and alcohol. I regretted all the time wasted on my embarrassments and regrets. Do you understand how hollow the idea of consequences feel, when you fully understand that you'll be dying with zilch chances of getting better?_

 _A desire sparked inside me. I didn't want to just be a fucking victim. I didn't want to be known as the girl who died of a terminal illness. I wanted to be known as the tortured artist who did crazy things and laughed about it! A desire swelled within me and I felt utterly haunted by its whispers. It took hold and wouldn't let go . . . I didn't want it too. It was the only part of me that was keeping me sane. I decided, right then and there, to fuck embarrassment and be as selfish and self-centered as I wanted._

 _I would never be a world famous violinist who was respected for her hard work and talents, but perhaps I could find catharsis?_

 _It's what motivated me to take off my shoes and pants to go on the top of my favorite place in my childhood playground and pay homage to my favorite film, Laputa: Castle in the Sky. Because why the hell not? It was stuck on my mind for the longest time and I really, really wanted to do it, so I did! If the police want to arrest me, then hey, I only have a year left! I don't care if that sounds self-absorbed, I don't care what others think of me anymore. I just want to do what I want to do. Fuck shame, fuck embarrassment, fuck this disgusting sense of impotence, and hey, fuck you too! Sorry, I just reaaaally wanted to tack that on. xoxo :D_

 _So yeah, I lied to Watari because I wanted to be on the fast track of meeting my personal eye candy, Arima Kousei. Does that make me a horrible person? I used someone for my own ulterior motives. For the most part, society teaches us that women who do what I did are evil bitches. Well, I really don't care if I am labeled that. What mattered was that I was getting to where I wanted to be, I was accomplishing what I wanted, and I got to spend time with the one boy I had been too ashamed to talk to for past few years. I'll say it again; you'll be surprised how much you don't give a shit about norms, society, and what is or isn't proper when you're knocking on death's door. I want what I want, simple as that. Thankfully, Friend A wasn't the type who was disgusted by others using ulterior motives to meet and be with other people. I'm not apologizing for what I did either, I don't care what anyone thinks of me._

 _Honestly? Being selfish and proactive helped keep me going when I wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and cry my eyes out in my bedroom. It kept me going to have distractions with new friends that I was forceful with, it kept me going to push Arima Kousei out of his own despair, and being able to play at a live performance, regardless of how poorly we did, was its own catharsis for me. I worked hard every day and I was so happy to feel so alive, motivated, and able to push myself and Friend A to play a duet. I didn't care that I had collapsed. One of my dreams had come true. I felt so alive, so happy, and so free . . . because music is freedom._

 _When he confirmed to me that I was his inspiration during his performance at his first pianist tournament since his breakdown . . . I felt so ambivalent. On one hand, it was one of my romantic aspirations come true, yet on the other hand, I pondered if he would suffer horribly because of his pain. I wanted so badly to be with him and for him to see me for who I am, but I wondered if being so forceful would honestly do more harm than good. I still acted impulsively and demanded his attention because I just couldn't stand to be helpless! I hated the helplessness! I needed him to see me for who I am! When he stopped seeing me for long periods of time and gave me that hollow look whenever he did, I knew that . . . I was forcing him to relive the tragic moments with his bitch of a mother. After such a long time of trying to stay positive, I could no longer deny the obvious. I knew how he saw me and I desperately wanted to deny it but I can't do anything about my deteriorating health. I really would just be the terminal illness girl who died before they finished high school. I would just be another painful memory that he would loath and regret. It was conceivable that I would bring him torturous memories and guilt just like his mother. I didn't want to be forgotten, I wanted to be remembered so maybe a part of me could live on in some miniscule way, regardless of how ridiculous that seemed. Yet, by making him think about me, I was just making his life worse._

 _That's why I told him to forget me! After all, if I just cause him pain, then it's better that he never remembers! I can't apologize for being so selfish! I can't apologize for having these feelings to fight back the helplessness I feel! If I were to say sorry, I'd burst into tears and just let the world swallow me whole and break down completely! I can't . . . I can't . . . !_

 _I tried getting into some philosophy when I felt like I was spiraling out of control once I understood I was reaching death knell sooner than I ever wanted to, I recalled the words of the Mad Philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche when he talked about his terminal illness. It struck a chord with me despite how stupid I felt his view was at the time. In one of his shorter books, Ecco Homo, he said that he felt his terminal illness had a positive effect on his life because he could go on working on the so-called "re-evaluation of all values" to change the future of the world itself. He felt his life's purpose was to change society's values to avoid the future's impending fall into nihilism. And well . . . um . . . He never actually completed that book, he fell into madness before he ever got the chance to write it, and his Nazi-loving sister then used his fame and re-wrote his works to support the Nazis. After his death, he became ridiculed as the father of fascism and to this day people hate him because of the misunderstanding of his works outside of the philosophy curriculum. Needless to say, I stopped bothering with philosophy after learning about how awful his life became, because of what happened after his terminal illness sent him into madness. There was so much I wanted to do and I decided I would stick to seeing myself - no - to_ _ **being**_ _a musician. Because that is who I am. Philosophy had just felt like a desperate attempt at a distraction._

 _Playing the violin, performing for a crowd, and taking in the cheers . . . and even the insults . . . it was so worth it! It was such a riveting, enriching, empowering experience! I felt like I could do anything! I felt like my music; my flawed, broken, and human, all too human art made me free! It made me feel alive! It made me SO HAPPY! I was bursting with energy. Even the day I collapsed, I had never felt more satisfied! I wasn't just some tragic consequence of life, I was my own person, and I could find happiness in struggling, failing, working, and bettering my art! That is what it means to be an artist! A musician!_

 _Friend A eventually came around and cheered me up at the hospital. I threw a pillow at that idiot because he wasted so much time with his worries and shortened the amount of time that we would have together by so much in just a few short weeks. Did he ever truly understand that him just being there, regardless of him sitting silent in the corner and looking at me with a forlorn expression, was enough for me? It was enough for me that he cared to spend time with me. It was enough for me that he blasted through his own pain to see me and be with me. Yes, Watari had jokes, but he wasn't Kousei. Kousei understood my condition, he understood my feelings, he could talk to me about music, and he was so adorable whenever he got flustered by my pushy antics. I always wanted Kousei, never Watari. Watari was a good friend, but Kousei_ _was_ _\- Kousei_ _is_ _my one and only cherished love. I loved that I got to spend time with Kousei and I thanked him for all that he gave me. I'm so happy that I got to meet the person I secretly admired; I learned that he was a flawed, broken, and hesitant person . . . but also incredibly compassionate, motivated, and free spirited when he pushed past his doubts. I love Kousei - flaws and all._

 _I'm going to tell you something so absolutely, completely, tremendously horrible about me. I'm about to say something so incredibly self-centered, controlling, manipulative, and perhaps evil that . . . I humbly ask that you be careful who you share this knowledge with. Whomever Kousei decides to be his future partner, lovers or wife, I hope - in all of my conceitedness - that he views them as secondary compared to me. I did my utmost to be as forceful and zany and fun as possible. I want to be remembered as the unique, happy, fun, COOL GIRL who you can just hang out with. Whoever he ends-up with, and I do sincerely hope that she makes him happy, I want her to be secondary compared to me. I don't necessarily want to be worshiped. I just want to be his one true love with all others being pale imitations compared to me. I want my impact upon him to be so great that he never forgets me, but I really do hope that he mostly smiles and feels happy when remembering me. I don't want his memory of me to be painful, but I hope I was the best girl that he met. I hope that you can forgive me for being so arrogant and conceited . . ._

 _Finally, should I die at the operation table, I want it to be known that I am so happy that my final moments were with Kousei. I'm so happy that he got the courage to ask me to perform another duet with him after I would 'get better' from my condition. It inspired me to keep going, it made me feel like a musician again, and made me work hard. It made me laugh at and fight against my sense of impotence. I enjoyed - loved the struggle! I loved working hard on improving my condition and bettering myself. I know that it was futile, but to be honest, I don't feel that makes me a tragedy. Please don't call me a victim, I never want to be considered a victim. Don't insult my memory by viewing me as a tragedy. I am more significant than that! It was, in all honesty, my worst fears come true. I always feel like I was inescapably drowning from the knowledge that I would die so young and that all of my efforts would be worthless because of genetic factors beyond my control. But you know what? Feeling inspired to fight my illness, suffering for the goal of getting better, and working hard to improve myself like I had during my childhood for my violin lessons was so gratifying! I felt so fulfilled! I felt so alive, free, and happy to struggle and fight and . . . it was so empowering! Even if the last duet could never come true in real life, even if it would always remain an elusive dream, I feel self-satisfaction in fighting against my illness for the goal of playing music once again alongside Kousei-kun. A dream really is wonderful, an illusion can bring you happiness, and my life did have meaning beyond my illness._

 _That isn't a self-deception; those are my honest feelings. My life does have meaning._

 _So please, don't call me a victim, please don't call my life a tragedy, please don't pity me, and remember me for my faults and all. Be disgusted by what you found disgusting about me, feel hate for what you hated about me, call me out on what you wanted to call me out on, feel annoyed by how I annoyed you, feel happy for when we shared happy moments together, feel friendship, love, respect, and just feel how you feel. I expressed my feelings in my music because music was my freedom. A resounding crescendo and rhapsody of my emotions; my personal symphony for all who would listen. Be free to love me and hate me, so that you remember me as a real person. I don't need to be idealized, I don't need eulogies, and I don't need anyone suffering on my behalf. I am gone so feel how you feel about me. This letter came off as more of a tangent than I wanted it to be, feel free to throw it away if that's what you would prefer to do._

 _Thank you, for all the cherished memories. I'll never forget them, even after I am gone._

 _Love,_

 _Miyazono Kaori_


End file.
